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“More than you know, Ian.”

“Try that again.”

Flash laughed tiredly.

“More than you know...boss.”

7

FLASH FINALLY MADE it home around midnight. Ian had tried to talk her into staying, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Better to leave him wanting more than wear out her welcome. She parked in her usual space across from Mrs. Scheinberg’s front door and saw the living room light shining through the curtains. Curious, Flash knocked softly on the front door.

Only a few seconds later Mrs. Scheinberg opened the door.

“Yes, dear?” Mrs. Scheinberg asked. She wore her favorite blue silk pajamas, the ones with the mandarin collar, and her matching blue bathrobe.

“I just saw your light was on. What are you doing still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Something wrong?”

“I’m an old woman. That’s what’s wrong. You want to come in?”

Flash followed her inside and locked up behind them.

“You’re home late,” Mrs. Scheinberg said as she went into the kitchen and put her teakettle on the stove.

“I was with Ian.”

“With him or with him?”

“Both.”

“Oh, my...” Mrs. Scheinberg turned around and gave her a smile. “I take it your gift went over well.”

“That might be an understatement.”

“So why are you here? Shouldn’t you be there?” She nodded her head toward the kitchen window that faced east to Mount Hood.

Flash shrugged as she took her usual seat at Mrs. Scheinberg’s pale blue Formica kitchen table.

“He asked me to stay the night. He wanted me to. I thought it would be better if I didn’t push my luck.”

“Playing hard to get. The oldest trick in the book.” Mrs. Scheinberg nodded her approval. “I’ve done it myself. Works every time.”

“I don’t know if that’s it. I just don’t want to get too

serious too fast.”

“You’re in love with him and have been for months. How much more serious can you get?”

Flash sat back in the chair, stretching out her legs under the table. Her hips were tight from the sex, not that she’d complain. The best kind of pain, in her opinion.

“He doesn’t know I’m in love with him. He doesn’t need to know that.”

“Why won’t you tell him?” Mrs. Scheinberg asked as she dug her Christmas cookies out of what looked to Flash like a box that had once stored Brillo pads. Clever lady. “You’re worried he doesn’t love you?”

“He doesn’t act like he’s in love with me. Lust, yes. But I can’t get over the feeling that the sex is the only reason he wants me around. He said something tonight about me being the only woman he’s ‘himself’ with.”

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